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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064531">Hitting the Hard Stuff</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EudociaCovert/pseuds/EudociaCovert'>EudociaCovert</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Best Path: Prompt Fills [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Banter, Concussed Smellerbee, Concussions, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Prompt Fill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:09:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064531</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EudociaCovert/pseuds/EudociaCovert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A concussed Smellerbee is not a happy Smellerbee.</p><p>Prompt fill!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jet &amp; Longshot (Avatar), Jet &amp; Smellerbee (Avatar), Longshot &amp; Smellerbee (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Best Path: Prompt Fills [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736206</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>161</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Best Path: 5th Anniversary Prompt Party!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hitting the Hard Stuff</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TBPpromptparty">TBPpromptparty</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>Prompt:</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Smellerbee falls off a roof and lands herself a mild concussion. Jet and Longshot find this hilarious, all things considered; Smellerbee does not.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re heavier like this,” Jet notes. His voice is too loud and cheerful.</p><p>Smellerbee shoves her heel into the side of his thigh and grinds down. This turns out to be a horrible idea, as it makes Jet tilt to the side in an effort to get away, and since he’s giving her a sheep-piggy back ride she tilts too. Tilting is. Very bad.</p><p>“I’m going to throw up,” She announces, matter of fact.</p><p>“Can you hold it for a couple minutes?” Jet asks. “If we aim it at our landlord’s front door maybe she’ll forget about trying to raise the rent today.”</p><p>“I’ll barf on your front door,” Smellerbee promises, then tucks her head into the back of Jet’s neck. Wait, there’s something wrong about that statement. Also, the sun is the worst.</p><p>“Hey hey,” Jet squirms under her. “Not down the back of my neck, that’s mean.”</p><p>“Then turn the sun off.” It’s the least he could do for being higher on the roof earlier and not on the ground where he could catch her.</p><p>Jet chuckles, sardonic. “Sure, I’ll get right to it.”</p><p>The light dims suddenly, and Smellerbee rears back, surprised. “That was fast.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s called shade.” Oh. Now that she’s looking around, they’re in a familiar hallway. Almost home.</p><p>Jet stops in front of a door. It isn’t their door. Smellerbee knows this for sure because (Oh yeah!) they don’t actually have a front door. They have a front curtain.</p><p>“Okay, puke time.” Jet hoists her up a bit and leans forward. “Go.”</p><p>“You’re the worst.”</p><p>For all the teasing Jet’s gentle when he sits her up against wall in their room, and serious when he checks her eyes again. “Smellerbee, are you sure-”</p><p>“Not too bad,” she assures him grumpily. “Just annoying. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>He nods solemnly, then pokes her in the forehead. Smellerbee tries to swat him away, but she’s too slow. Hey look, Longshot is here.</p><p>She squints up at the archer. “Where’d you come from?”</p><p>Longshot raises an eyebrow, gives Jet a questioning look and mimes lifting a cup to his lips.</p><p>Jet cackles. “Oh yeah, Smellerbee’s been hitting the hard stuff. We’ll have to sit down after she sobers up and have a long supportive talk-”</p><p>Smellerbee shoves him away.</p><p>“The <em>worst</em>,” she repeats, and then she throws up on Longshot’s shoes.</p><p> </p>
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